Do not cross!
Merek's sharp eyes narrowed as he read the three ominous words hastily sprayed onto abandoned cars, the black paint stark against the white metal.
But before he could utter a warning, the driver, lost in the thrill of smashing through obstacles and feeling invincible, roared past the sign, paying it no mind.
Puzzled, Merek leaned back, thoughts churning. That warning could mean only one thing: survivors had been here. But for what purpose had they left the message? Two possibilities played out in his mind.
'It could be a trap,' he reasoned, 'meant to slow down travelers so bandits could ambush them.'
Or worse.
'It's a genuine warning... but what in the world were they warning us about?'
Before he could think further, a stammering voice beside him shattered the moment.
"W-what's that…?" the driver whispered, terror creeping into his tone.
Merek lifted his gaze and his breath caught in his throat.
